ublished wonders of the day,
and a local legend of renown.

Of course all these proceedings put an end to lectures and study for the
time. Then Mr. Goodrich, our Consul, as I have before said, organised a
deputation of Americans in Paris to go and congratulate the new
_Gouvernement Provisoire_ on the new Republic, of which I was one, and we
saw all the great men, and Arago made us a speech. Unfortunately all the
bankers stopped paying money, and I had to live principally on credit, or
sailed rather close to it, until I could write to my father and get a
draft on London.

But when the Revolution of June was coming, I determined to leave Paris.
I had no sympathy for the Socialists, and I knew very well that neither
the new Government, nor the still newer Louis Napoleon, who was looming
up so dangerously behind it, needed _my_ small aid. There was a
regulation in those days that every foreign resident on leaving Paris
must give twenty-four hours' notice to the police before he could obtain
his passport. But when I applied for mine, it was handed out at once
"over the counter," with a smile and a wink, as if unto one who was
merrily well known, with an intimation that they were rather glad that I
was going, and would do everything to facilitate my departure. I suspect
that my _dossier_ must have been interesting reading! M. Claude, or his
successor, was probably of the same mind regarding me as the old black
preacher in Philadelphia regarding a certain convert, "De Lawd knows we
don' want no sitch bredderin in _dis_ congregation!"

So I went to Rouen and saw the cathedral and churches--it was a very
quaint old town then--and thence to Havre, where I took passage on a
steamboat for London. The captain had a very curious old
Gnostic-Egyptian ring, with a gem on which were four animal heads in one,
or a chimaera. I explained what it was, and that it meant the year. But
the captain could not rest till he had got the opinion of a fussy old
Frenchman, who, as a doctor, was of course supposed to know more than I.
He looked at it, and, with a great air, remarked, "_C'est grecque_!" Then
the captain was _quite_ satisfied. It was Greek!

I went in London to a very modest hotel, where I was, however, very
comfortable. In those days a bottle of the very vilest claret
conceivable, and far worse than "Gladstone," cost four or five shillings;
therefore I took to pale ale. Ewan Colquhoun soon found me out, and,
under his g